


Pizza Date

by biibii



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Mothman, Mild Language, silly and sweet, they're both awkward lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 06:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11845551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biibii/pseuds/biibii
Summary: "Sounds like somebody’s got a cruuuush~”“I do,” Keith slips two cheesy slices onto his plate, “on Mothman.”Lance hums, rolling his eyes but neither is enough to keep the smile off his face. “Mothman, mothman. That’s all I ever hear. Does Mothman ever buy you pizza?”--just a pizza date night fic with some confessions





	Pizza Date

**Author's Note:**

> another lil' ditty I came across months after I wrote it and out of boredom decided to share. Hope you guys enjoy it!

“Sooo,” Lance drags out the vowel, thrumming his fingers against the counter and tilting his head to the side in what he hopes is his most endearing fashion. He gains his boyfriend’s gaze (albeit, annoyed, but, hey, Lance thrives on literally any amount of attention so it’s good), arms crossing and bangs falling into his eyes as Keith waits expectantly for Lance’s point. “Can I take you out tonight?”

Keith raises his brows marginally, “Take me out as in…”

Lance gives him an unimpressed expression, “Like with a sniper from my window-” Keith snorts at that because his boyfriend has a morbid sense of humor (and Pidge is quickly inheriting it, unfortunately), “what do you think I mean?”

“Okay,” Keith shrugs, undeterred by his sarcasm. “Where to?”

“I’m thinking some place classy.” Lance is practically draped over the countertop of the retail store Keith works in. It sells belts mostly- Lance really doesn’t know what kind of store this is, and Keith only seems to be interested in the paycheck so it seems to work out. “Pizza?”

“That’s classy?”

“Is Italian classy?” He retorts with a huff. “So, yeah, I think I’ve made my point.”

“You’re wrong but,” Keith shrugs. “Sure. I’m off at five.”

Lance hops into a straightened position, grinning from ear to ear. “Great! I’ll pick you up at six?” With Keith’s permissive nod, Lance takes a chance and leans over the counter to press a hasty kiss to Keith’s lips. “Make sure to shower your gross mullet.”

“Make sure to brush your teeth,” Keith’s nose crinkles cutely. “You smell like garlic.”

“Dude, I’m not gonna brush my teeth when I’m just gonna stuff my face with garlic again later. Pfft,” Lance shakes his head as he exits the store, “I’m not _that_ dumb.”

.

Lance picks up Keith promptly, grinning when he smells the shower freshness of Keith’s hair and deliberately ignoring the smirk on Keith’s face when they kiss and he tastes the minty toothpaste on Lance’s lips.

The pizza place is fairly crowded, but that’s to be expected on a Friday evening.

“Oh, this place is really classy,” Keith says, handing Lance a tray before they make their way down the buffet line.

“Right? I knew you’d love it.”

“I’ve been here before, Lance. With you. Twenty times.”

“Awe, you’ve been counting? Sounds like somebody’s got a cruuuush~”

“I do,” Keith slips two cheesy slices onto his plate, “on Mothman.”

Lance hums, rolling his eyes but neither is enough to keep the smile off his face. “Mothman, mothman. That’s all I ever hear. Does Mothman ever buy you pizza?”

“He services me in another ways.” Keith replies, rather vaguely.

The ambiguity of the statement has Lance jerking his head to Keith so abruptly his pizza nearly teeters off his plate. “What?! What kind of ways?”

“I’m gonna go grab a seat.” Keith turns on his heel and walks off to find a booth, leaving a sputtering Lance still at the buffet line.

Once he’s grabbed both his and Keith drinks (pepsi and Hawaiian punch, respectively), he drops his tray loudly onto the table, Keith’s eyes watching him with an eerie calm, amused sort of look. He knows what he’s done, Lance thinks with narrowed eyes as he sits. “So these services Mothman provides-”

“We really shouldn’t be talking about it so much,” Keith says, grabbing his drink and sucking on the straw. “Mothman likes to be private.”

“Oh my god,” Lance shakes his head before taking a bite of his pizza. With a full mouth, he adds, “You’re so weird dude.”

“Says the guy who wants to fuck aliens.”

“Look,” Lance swallows and holds up a finger with the hand still clutching a slice, “when the aliens do come, it’s fight or fuck-”

“Is it _really_?”

“-and for the sake of peace, I’ve chosen the latter. You’d be wise to do the same.”

Keith scoffs a laugh. Focusing back to his meal, he reaches for a sticky cinnamon roll, completely bypassing the slices of pizza and garlic sticks. His fingers are immediately coated in sugary frosting, and his lips fare no better when he takes a large bite, the white substance clinging to the corners and upper lip.

Lance laughs at the sight, grabbing a napkin from the dispenser and dabbing it against the condensation of his glass before handing it to Keith. “Here,” he insists, “you’re just gonna make yourself more sticky using your hands.”

“Thanks,” Keith’s voice is muffled from the confection as he takes the napkin, wiping his lips.

“Can’t take you anywhere, Mr. Sloppy.”

“That’s a stupid nickname.”

“ _You’re_ stupid.”

“This is why I’m dating Mothman.” Keith says around his straw. “He doesn’t call me stupid or sloppy.”

“Well, Mothman doesn’t love you like I do.”

The straw of Keith’s cup makes a terrible slurping sound and the pizza Lance tries to swallow nearly gets caught in his throat because Lance just used the L-word. Which he’s yet to do. Out loud anyway.

And declaring his love to protect his honor from _Mothman_ was simply not the way Lance planned out the confession.

Maybe he can play it off, maybe if he just keeps talking Keith will forget or think he’s misheard.

Talking he can do, he can talk, _oh my god just say something._ “This pizza is stale, is it stale to you? I mean for six ninety five you’d think it’d be some quality pizza but I mean I guess dessert is included in that, and drinks too I guess, but still, it’s Friday night and it’s only seven o’clock, you’d think-”

“Lance,” Keith says, stopping his word vomit. “Shut the fuck up.”

Lance is going to die; first from embarrassment and then apparently from getting the crap beat out of him from Keith because he looks really angry right now. “Uhhhh, okay, I can do that, shutting up is my specialty-”

“You’re still talking.”

“My bad.”

“Stop. Talking.” At his insistent tone, Lance finally does, pressing his lips into a fine line and dropping his gaze to the table. He can feel sweat bead the back of his neck and he shifts on the uncomfortable worn leather of the booth as he bemoans his lack of a filter.

Why can’t he just think before he says things? It took _years_ to gather the courage to ask Keith out (and yeah, much of that delayed time was denial of his attraction to Keith), it took _weeks_ to even hold his hand or be affectionate at any capacity (it was a weird first month, honestly) and it took about another month to finally kiss him. And now just three months into dating he just throws out the word ‘love’ like it’s no big deal? Keith nearly fainted from just being asked out! He’s really going to get his butt kicked for this, Lance just knows it; or even worse, Keith will dump him because he’s moving way too fast (and, no, this would not be the first time Lance has been dumped for _that_ ).

“Lance,” Keith’s voice startles him but he’s still too embarrassed to face him. Until, of course, a softer tone entreats, “Look at me.”

Lance does, afraid of what he might find, but Keith’s frustrated expression has melted into a calmer, focused gaze.

“Say it again.”

“Uh,” Lance furrows his brows. “What-”

“Don’t play stupid,” Keith says, some of that rage coming back in before he seems to reign it in. “Just. Say it again. Forreal this time.”

Taking a deep breath, Lance closes his eyes and obeys. “I love you.” He peeks an eye open, “Like, a lot. So. Sorry.”

Keith blinks at him. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because-um, I thought you might have thought it was too fast? Or, uh. I dunno?”

“I’m not mad-”

“I’m glad you told me, dude, because you look pretty pissed right now.”

“I’m _not_ ,” Keith hisses out a breath. “Sorry, I’m not mad, I promise. I’m just. Surprised.”

“ _This_ is you being surprised?”

“ _Shut up_. Ugh, shit,” Keith rubs his hands over his face. “I’m just- I’m messing this up, sorry, say it again, I’ll do it right this time.”

Lance is considerably confused this time. Was Keith getting frustrated at himself or Lance? And for what? His boyfriend can be confusing sometimes. But he complies, and with no less sincerity says, “I love you, Keith.”

This time Keith’s cheeks blush as red at the cup he’s holding. For a few seconds, that drag onto what feels like minutes but might just be a trick of the mind, they just stare at each other, Keith looking properly surprised this time. Stunned is more the word, because he’s just sitting there with wide eyes and burning cheeks. It’s cute but also quite nerve-wracking. Before Lance can urge him to say literally anything, Keith’s mouth opens and a weak but audible voice comes out, “I love you too. Lance.”

“Oh,” Lance feels his own face warming up at the confession. “Cool.”

“Uh-huh,” Keith chews on the end of his straw.

They both sit there for a long moment, staring at their still full plates, generic pop music layered with news anchors and animated shows playing from the TVs filling the suddenly heavy silence.

And Lance has never really cared for these sort of moments so he endeavors to fix it. “Hey, I’d really like to kiss you right now-”

“Me too,” Keith agrees, setting his cup down.

“But I mean, like, _Titanic_ level of epic kissing so would you maybe want to follow me into the bathroom real quick?”

There’s no hesitation this time. “Yes,” the word is barely out of his mouth before Keith’s standing and reaching out for his hand as they rush in a totally inconspicuous manner to the restrooms.

The door doesn’t even have time to swing closed before Keith is turning into his space and Lance is cupping his face and they’re coming together like they’ve done so many times but it’s different now. A good different, the weight of knowing that Keith indeed loves him too has Lance pressing closer, holding tighter and kissing him with every ounce of passion he can muster.

Keith must be doing the same because the way he tilts the angle of the kiss and pushes up to his toes, arms coming about his shoulders is making Lance’s head swim.

The length of the kiss is lost because time is an illusion and is honestly not even relevant at the moment. Lance is thinking he could stay this way forever, wrapped up in Keith, fingers threading though his soft hair as Keith devours him whole. He could live in this moment, if it weren’t for their unfortunate setting.

“Uh.” The foreign voice has Keith and Lance pulling away from each other, each breathless and startled, but still clutching one another as they face the sheepish looking guy. “I don’t know what all you’re planning on doing,” the guy says, gesturing to their entwined persons, “but, uh, I’d avoid that last stall if I were you.” And with that, he awkwardly moves around them to exit the bathroom.

“Whoops,” Lance smiles weakly at Keith. “Kind of killed the mood, huh?”

Keith slides his arms from around his neck, but keeps his hands on his biceps. “Yep.”

“Did that guy even wash his hands?”

“Lance.”

“Yes, love of my life?”

“Kiss me.”

Never one to deny Keith anything, Lance acquiesces easily. “Gotcha.”

.

They exit the bathroom shortly after, disconcerted when their table has been cleared off but realizing their absence must have suggested their leaving so they’re forced to get new plates.

“So,” Lance says, sliding some pizza onto his plate, “about this Mothman business.”

“ _Lance_.”

“I just want to be sure I’m a better boyfriend than him!”

Keith shrugs. “Eh.”

“What?!” Honestly, what’s a guy got to do to beat some cryptid… “Well, you at least love me more than him, right?”

“Let’s not get crazy, Lance.”

“Ugh! I take it back, I hate you, you’re the worst.”

Keith smiles at that, the freak, and says, “You are a better kisser though.”

Lance almost drops his plate in sheer relief, bracing a hand over his breast dramatically. “Oh, thank god.”

**Author's Note:**

> is it painfully obvious my inspiration for this fic happened at a CiCi's pizza......


End file.
